A Man's Snack is His Downfall

Chase Grimm's aide-de-camp sent me a screenshot of an Instagram Live status. Guess who it came from.

His new secretary. She was showing off a meticulously prepared lunch from a lunchbox. My handiwork, no less. I made it for him.

The caption read: [He's a dark, cold CEO… and a shiny knight who saved a hungry princess with a gastric problem from eating mac 'n' cheese again!]

Chase almost never posted on Instagram. Yet there he was, sharing a photo of a cup of ridiculously spicy mac 'n' cheese, captioned: [I have missed this.]

The nerve of this prick.

Then my mother-in-law sent an entirely unsolicited text: [What the heck were you doing?! You're supposed to make him a proper lunch! He can't stand spicy food!]

After all that, I decided to call a supermarket. "Hi! I'd like to order 100 cups of instant super-spicy mac 'n' cheese and have them delivered to Grimm Co. Please and thank you."

"Ain't I generous?"

Eve Stewart, Chase's aide-de-camp, texted me just as I reached home.

She sent a screenshot of someone's Instagram Live status. It came from Chase's new secretary. The image showed a lunchbox packed with near-artistic precision, filled with enough nutrients to make a dietitian gasp.

The caption read: [He's a dark, cold CEO… and a shiny knight who saved a hungry princess with gastric problems from eating instant mac 'n' cheese again!]

I stared at the screen in confusion. How had the lunch I prepared for him ended up in Imogen John's hands?

Eve followed up almost immediately. [Check his status.]

I did, still baffled, and my blood started to boil.

Chase Grimm never updated his social media. Yet there he was, sharing a photo of a cup of ridiculously spicy mac 'n' cheese, captioned: [I've missed this.]

"Missed this, my ass." I had made him a proper lunch. Instead of eating it, he handed it to his pick-me secretary and chose instant mac 'n' cheese. What was that supposed to mean?

Before I could call him to demand an explanation, his mother called first. She did not even bother with a greeting before shouting, "Why is my son eating instant mac 'n' cheese for lunch, Greta? Making lunch for him is your job! You know he has a weak stomach. How nutritious can mac 'n' cheese be? It's nothing but junk food for the broke!"

"But I did make him lunch!" I protested.

"Then why the hell is my son eating mac 'n' cheese?" she snapped. "I already called him. He said you went shopping and forgot to prepare lunch, so don't bother denying it. I don't even know what you do all day. You don't show up at the company, and you barely do anything. With all that free time, you still can't make him lunch?"

I was done wasting my breath. I ended the call and sent her Eve's screenshot.

[See this? I made lunch. Your son gave it to a side chick.]

"Well, well, well. My dear mother-in-law went silent."

My mind, however, remained in furious disarray. That asshole had the nerve to lie to his mother, give my food to his secretary, and match her post with his own status. How dare he? And why was I the one getting blamed while he played house with his work wife?

He knew his stomach could not handle spicy food, but no. The shiny knight had to sacrifice himself for a princess who was not even his wife. And when the gastric problems hit, who would deal with them?

I would. Me.

I really wanted to see him burn.